SICK FUX

a heavy eclipse, blotting out the sun and anything bright, bringing with him endless, eternal night and murderous tar-black blood pumping through my

She knew I loved her in these clothes.
Only in these clothes.
My living, breathing doll.

Being around anyone but Dolly made me want to take a gun and pierce a bullet through their thick skulls. I didn’t know why. Those were just the daily thoughts I’d had about people ever since I could remember.

I’d told her that to be my friend, she’d have to cut Eddie loose. I didn’t share.

“You’re not called Ellis

Ellis. Your name is Dolly. I decided on it yesterday. You look exactly like your doll. I named you Dolly. I don’t like Ellis. It’s a stupid name. It doesn’t suit you.”

Soulmates forged in fire, under the watchful gaze of Satan’s mocking eyes.

The first time I met Heathan James he was picking the wings off a butterfly. When I asked him why, he turned his light gray eyes my way and said, “Because I want to watch it

Rabbit, why do I have a scar? Why were people calling me Ellis? Why do I have a scar like Ellis . . .?”

you belong to me now. My little Dolly darlin’, your blood merged with mine. Your blood running with mine, through my veins, bringing me your light.” His nose ran down my cheek, and he smiled in victory. “And my blood now runs in yours. My darkness . . . my blackened soul polluting yours, bringing you over to my side.